


vermillion

by fenemee



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Angst, China, Concubines, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hierarchies, Historical, Light Angst, Masters, Mistresses, Money and Power, Romance, Shanghai - Freeform, Slice of Life, Traditional Households, Traditional Setting, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:54:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21467356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenemee/pseuds/fenemee
Summary: Sold to a prestigious household with the promise of wealth, Liusi is thrown into a state of resentment as she spends her days bound to her bedridden husband, Qiankun. Her only escape lies in reliving memories endlessly as she reminisces the days spent with Dejun. Liusi’s world is flipped upside down when her path intertwines with Hendery, the young bachelor from abroad.
Relationships: Qian Kun/Reader, Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Reader, Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	vermillion

**Author's Note:**

> A rewriting of Eileen Chang’s "The Golden Cangue".
> 
> I’m not well-versed in the customs of China so this may be historically inaccurate at parts. Do drop me a comment if there are some things I had misrepresented. Enjoy, folks!

“Would First Mistress like her morning tea? The kitchen had just received a fresh batch of jasmine leaves.” Xiaowei secures the last of the pins in place, her touch careful and delicate as always. I give her a perfunctory nod and she returns the comb to the vanity table, bowing as she exits. Despite my curt response, the sweet smile stays on her lips.

It is at times like this when I wonder how Xiaowei manages to stay so cheery while serving me. In spite of myself, I know all too well that she doesn’t deserve the cold manner in which I treat her. None of them do. But then again, it has been almost three years now since I moved in. The servants have had plenty of time to get used to my moody demeanour and volatile tantrums.

Xiaowei had spent a good half-hour styling my hair, gathering the dark strands before she fashioned them into loops and swirls. I hum as I examine my reflection, touching the golden hairpin that extends from one side of the bun. A circular jade pendant in the deepest shade of emerald dangles from the end. My fingers move to stroke it, relishing in the feel of its cool and smooth surface.

Such a rare, luxurious item… Just one of the countless gifts the Qians had bestowed upon me when I first entered the household. In fact, this pendant itself is probably more valuable than what my entire bloodline is worth. It could have been easily pawned off, helping to pay part of father’s extensive bills or even the cost of his funeral. With that bitter thought in mind, I am abruptly thrown into a pit of fury.

A cry of anguish tears its way through my throat as I rip the hairpin from its place and fling it onto the ground. Another servant girl, Yaner, lets out a muffled sound when the ornament hits the floor with a loud “ping”. I realise that I am panting with anger by the time she recovers from shock and scurries over.

“What’s wrong, Mistress? Are you hurt?” Her eyes swim with apparent concern as she places a light hand on my shoulder. I fight the urge to flinch, acutely aware of how the Qian servants perceive me. I have no doubt that they will spend the next few days mocking me, gossiping about how a member of the affluent household had thrown another child’s tantrum.

To my dismay, Yaner presses on, persistent. I have always preferred the more docile Xiaowei over her for this reason. “Could it be that the hairstyle done up today is not up to satisfaction? I will make sure to reprimand Xiaowei when she returns.”

“No need for that. It’s not her,” I murmur, feeling drained all of a sudden. I twist out of her touch and return a steady gaze to the mirror. “I’m in a foul mood. Get the others to retreat for now and leave me be. I’ll pay my respects when it is time.”

Somewhat hesitant, Yaner nods meekly as she heads for the door. She beckons the rest of the girls in the midst of tidying the room to follow suit. In all honesty, I have no idea what I intended on achieving with my outburst, but the peace that soon returns calms me a little. My eyes fall shut and I inhale deeply, knowing that I have to soon regain composure.

Time is running out.

My eyelids flutter open and I am confronted by my reflection. My outfit is pristine and immaculate as always, not a crease to be spotted. I don a pale, salmon blouse that flares out near the end, a lavender handkerchief of the finest silk tucked into one sleeve. Opulent accessories drape all over my neck and arms, dangling from my ears.

Impulsively, my hands reach forward to grip the bronze frame of the mirror. Everyone knows that the Qians are filthy rich. It is no surprise that they feed me well- I am chubbier now, with more meat to my cheeks. My lips are painted a vermillion red, brows filled in to form perfect, twin arches. Too much powder, I note in slight distaste as I examine my ghostly complexion. I’ll have to remind Xiaowei to go easy on it tomorrow. 

My features have not changed much since I first arrived. But something is amiss, and it feels like a stranger is staring back at me. My gaze settles on my eyes and I register the haunted look in them, no longer bright and kind like they used to be. It is as though I have witnessed a lifetime worth of terrible things in my short stay.

The reflection that stares back at me is no longer malnourished. The old me would have even called her beautiful. But I feel far from that, my face just a testimony of the daily grooming efforts of the servants. They invest hours into making sure that I appear prim and proper, that I look worthy of my title. So why is it that I feel so hollow? So tormented and distraught on the inside?

And to this, I already have the answer.

When my vision refocuses on the mirror once more, the woman hiding behind the mask of heavy makeup has vanished. In her place sits an eighteen-year-old in a tattered outfit and loose pigtails. The background of the room morphs without warning and throws me into a familiar apartment. I find myself sitting disoriented on the ground, crammed between countless stacked boxes that reek of oil. Finally, my surroundings stop spinning and I realise where I am.

I am finally home.

* * *

Life used to move at a different pace in the past. Time used to slip by like grains of sand between the fingers back when I had to help father in his sesame oil business. The work was never tough to begin with. All I was tasked with was to assist the customers and answer their queries. In fact, I would spend most of my time chatting away with the regulars and catching up on the latest gossips in town. The days were so simple that I never spared much thought for the future. I certainly never thought that a stroke would soon leave father into a comatose state.

I recall the good old days when mother would hand me some coins to go marketing on her behalf. I would put on my best outfit- blue blouse and a pair of matching pants made of linen, the edges threaded with flower details. Looking back, it is almost laughable when I compare that attire to the lavish wardrobe I now possess. But they were comfortable, and I never once felt suffocated in them. One particularly fond memory sticks out and I string it apart from the rest, allowing myself to indulge in it.

It was a Sunday when I made the journey across town and scanned what the various stores had to offer. A throaty voice hollered my name and I turned, frowning as I tried to discern whoever it was. A big splotch of green in the distance caught my attention and a name immediately sprung to mind. With my purse clutched tightly in hand, I manoeuvred my way through the chattering housewives and found myself before a makeshift stall. A myriad of fresh vegetables had been haphazardly laid out on the wooden counter. But alas, my eyes were drawn to the boy standing behind.

Dejun continued to arrange the items on the counter, acting as though he had yet to notice my presence. The youngest son of the Xiao family was always after me, calling me Miss Liu or even Little Miss Si at times. But for some reason, he thought that pretending not to see me was a grand idea. I huffed incredulously as I picked up a carrot and tossed it at him.

Dejun managed to duck in the nick of time. His eyes were swimming with mischief when he finally recovered and straightened up. “Good morning back to you. I must say that wasn’t too bad of an aim.”

“You should keep on your toes then. I’m not afraid to show my skills twice.”

He smirked, eyes glinting with challenge. “And you should come play ball with me and Yangyang someday. I hear that you love throwing dirty clothes at his face.”

“That’s only because he refuses to do his laundry,” I explained, slightly ticked that my brother had gone around soiling my name. “Besides, I don’t know how to. Mother’s always been against me going out onto the grass. Something to do with how girls are meant to be delicate.”

Dejun chuckled as he dropped on one knee to retrieve the carrot. With an air of nonchalance, he dusted away imaginary specks of dirt before tossing it back into the basket. I made a brief, mental note to thoroughly rinse through vegetables from the Xiao store. 

“A little sunlight won’t hurt. Besides, you’re tougher than most guys I know.” Dejun pointed out as a matter of fact and I shrugged. Mother wasn’t one to be reasoned with.

He paused, contemplative. “…We can sneak away sometime if you want to. I’ll teach you.”

His gentle remark caught me by surprise and my breath hitched in my throat. All of a sudden, I was too shy to continue meeting his eyes. My gaze fell away to the bustling crowd around us as I scrambled for a change in topic. “So that’s what Yangyang’s been up to when he’s supposed to be studying. As the only son, he’s too irresponsible.”

“Ah, crap. Did I just slip up and tell on him?”

I dismissed Dejun’s attempt at humour and clicked my tongue. “My parents’ been slogging to death for decades now just to send him to school. He’ll eventually be the head of the house. Father’s always joking about how he’ll be the one to end the Liu lineage. Maybe he’s right.”

“Don’t be too harsh on him. Yangyang may be smart, but no matter how hard he tries, you can’t expect him to fare better than the rest. There’s no doubt he’s in a better place than most of us here. But a few years of mediocre education won’t help much when he competes for jobs with, say, the Huangs.”

I scrunched my nose at that. “Oh, the Huangs. The absolute worst. A pretentious bunch is what they are. They’re known for educating their children abroad. Is staying here in China something to be ashamed of? People like them have been brainwashed and westernized. They’re starting to forget their roots.”

“Maybe,” Dejun replied simply. Unlike me, he never had an interest in the business of others, choosing instead to turn away whenever the townsfolk gossiped. Leaning forward against the counter, he adopted a more serious expression. “Speaking of the wealthy, does our lovely Miss Liu find those gentlemen attractive? Or perhaps…”

He paused intentionally for a second, trapping me under an intense stare. “Is it too far-fetched to hope that you wouldn’t mind settling for a commoner?

Dejun didn’t explicitly say it, but even a fool could have guessed what he was hinting at_. __The layered meaning to his words got my eyes widening as I sputtered_. He ran a hand through his dark hair as he laughed. I always wondered how he managed to reduce me to a babbling mess while he stayed composed.

“I like it better when you’re stunned. This expression, it suits you.”

With my heart thumping erratically, I closed the gap between us to swat him across the chest. I was suddenly acutely conscious of how the counter was the only thing separating us. “And who asked for your opinion? I’ll make any face I want.”

With a cocky smile on his lips, Dejun caught my wrist. His hot breath hit my ear as he pulled our bodies closer. “You better think carefully, Little Miss Si. I’ll be waiting for your answer the next time we meet.”

My cheeks flamed red for the rest of the day, a different kind of warmth blossoming in my chest. Dejun’s face stayed on my mind that whole night till the moon disappeared and the sun rose. All I could do was toss around on the straw bed, restless and hopelessly in love.

* * *

The spirited voices of the Second Mistress and only daughter of the house, Qianyun, fill the hallway. Their merry conversation leaves a feeling of displeasure crawling under my skin. Xiaowei had done up my hair once more, trailing after me as I step into the antechamber that connects to Old Mistress’ bedroom.

Both of them are seated around a small, pedestal table with a plate of walnuts set in the middle. They pause mid-conversation, heads turning to the door as a servant girl declares my arrival. They immediately rise to their feet. Despite the gesture, I notice how the Second Mistress, Taichen’s smile fades while Yun’s posture stiffens.

“How nice. Everyone’s here already!” I paint on a strained smile. “The two of you must be in a jolly good mood, seeing how you’re enjoying nuts this early.”

I must have succeeded in provoking Taichen. A look of irritation crosses her features as she glances away, unable to even lay sight on me. “It’s not for us- Old Mistress was in the mood for some walnuts yesterday and Yun remembered.”

“How filial,” I purr as I stroll towards them. “I must say, you two going out of your way to please her really puts me in a bad light.”

“You could have woken up earlier, then. You would have made it in time to help us.” Taichen says coolly, her fingers moving deftly as she picks apart the walnuts from the shells.

“Who gave me slow and dim-witted girls for servants? Is it my fault they took a long time dressing me up? Poor me, still getting bullied for where I came from. As if caring for the sick isn’t difficult enough a chore.”

A look of incredulity seizes Yun at the last line. I triumph in the sick feeling of glee at watching the Qian’s demure daughter lose her composure. “Do you have to speak of my First Brother that way? He has been ill for many years now. All he asks for is a caring wife to stay by his side and bear him children.”

Taichen adds on, as she always does. Her forehead is pinched with disapproval. “Sister Yun is right. He is your husband, after all. Who will you side if not with him? It is the role of the spouses to offer each other support. There is no reason for your discontent.”

“Isn’t that too insensitive, coming from you? You are married to a perfectly healthy man and have even conceived two sons. Of course, Sister Taichen does not feel disgruntled-”

“You!” Yun bursts out as she wags an angry finger. Her lips are quivering as she seethes with rage. “What a thing to say. Mother had agreed to let you in despite your lowly status, seeing how your great grandmother had worked for us. And this how you show gratitude!”

My patience has also been worn thin at this point. I grit my teeth as I glare pointedly at her. “I am only here because no lady from a decent household is willing to. _D__o not_ disrespect me by making my life out to be as easy as you think.”

Sensing that things will only escalate, Taichen hurriedly scurries over to Yun’s side to calm her down. Her eyes travel to where several servants are stationed, standing awkwardly still in the midst of the commotion. It is no secret that news travels fast in this household, ugly matters leaving the gates at times. Taichen must be aware that Yun’s outburst will do her own status no good if word of our altercation gets out.

She sends me a dirty look while the younger wipes her tears delicately with an ivory napkin. “This is unacceptable. The more you talk the more impertinent you get. This is an honourable household where rules exist. There is a limit to the things you can say.”

“Indeed,” I scoff in reply. “Speak for yourself. You may be superior in age and have married in earlier than I did, but let’s not forget that your place is merely the Second Mistress.”

Taichen is positively boiling when the door creaks open, a middle-aged servant peeking out. “Old Mistress has awakened. She says you can come in now”.

Somewhat grateful for the interruption, I stalk in immediately and the rest follow. As if by second nature, all of us hastily straighten our blouses and tuck the stray hair behind our ears. We curtsy and wait for the Old Mistress to have her breakfast, all smiles and laughter.

If someone were to witness us at this moment, we will look the part of a picture-perfect family, young mistresses and mother-in-law. But that tensed moment between us is not forgotten. No grudge in this house ever is.

* * *

“Si… water please,” the crumpled figure gasps, his voice broken and strained. I release a drawn-out sigh before I oblige, shuffling to the grand table in the middle of the room to pour him a glass. From where he lies on the sheets, Kun erupts into a fit of heavy coughing. It is a painful sound I once regarded with horror but am now desensitized to. 

Daytime may be spent warring with words, but nightfall is still the moment that I dread the most. I hate watching as Kun slowly wastes away. It unnerves me to see him eagerly lap up the same, pointless medicine he has been taking for a third of his life. When will this cripple of a man finally realise that no amount of treatment can save him? The state of his condition is simply beyond help.

“Here. I’ll help you sit up,” I say quietly as I set the glass aside. Kun mutters a “thank you, I’m sorry” and my heart breaks a little. His lips part in a soundless cry as I shift him into an upright position.

“Why do you keep doing this?” I retrieve the handkerchief from my sleeve and work on dabbing away the sweat on his temples. “You could have countless servants waiting on you, but instead, you send them away during the night. I am nowhere as competent when it comes to caring for you.”

“I know,” he rasps, clutching onto the glass of water tightly as I hand it over to him. “I’m well aware of that fact. But to be surrounded and watched so carefully- I feel like an animal, one they’re expecting to go savage.”

And then, “Besides, I-I prefer it when it’s just the two of us.”

Kun’s sweet voice falters at the last sentence, as though ashamed of admitting to that thought. His eyes are clear despite his sickness and they gaze into mine, desperate and full of longing. There is a child-like innocence to him, a sort of naivety that suggests he never really grew past the stage of being a boy. 

The sudden urge to envelope him in my arm washes over me. I want to console him and whisper that things will change for the better, that he will somehow hurt less when tomorrow comes. But who am I to do that when I deny him of simple affection?

“Go to sleep,” I utter instead as I remove the glass from him. I push myself off the edge of the bed, heading for the curtains to unhook them. “You need to rest. It’s late.”

To my surprise, a pale hand reaches out to grip me firmly by the wrist. His hand is rough and calloused, unlike how I had often imagined it to be cold.

It sends a bolt of realisation through me that this weak and feeble man was once full of vitality and life. There is so much more to Kun than what I often reduce him to in my head. He had a promising life ahead of him. He had dreams to pursue and a family to start.

Guilt engulfs me and I shut my eyes, trembling as I take in the feeling of his warm touch on my skin. I hate myself for the way I treat him so indifferently. But I can’t help it. Who in this household will take the brunt of my frustrations as graciously as he does, not once faulting me for the bitter tantrums I throw? I stand rooted in place, unable to shake his touch away.

“What is it?” I manage to choke out. “Is your back hurting again? Shall I call for someone to give you a massage?”

“Si. Look at me,” Kun exhales, his tone almost pleading. I shift my weight to face him, jolting when I see rivulets of tears running down his face. “Tell me honestly… do you despise me for tying you down to this life? For entrapping you here as a caregiver?”

His unexpected question renders me silent. It makes me want to cry out_, how can anyone possibly hate you_? There are a million words I can comfort him with.

But I resent the fact that my family had traded me off like a mere object. The thought of the Qians and the slaves that dare gossip behind my back have me shuddering with hatred. And so, I make a choice that I’ll probably come to regret. I lift my head to the ceiling and respond with a curt “yes”.

Kun’s ragged breathing stills for a moment, as though my cruel response had taken the life out of him. His strong grip on my wrist goes limp and he turns to the side silently. I take that as a cue to exit, heading down to the adjacent room as he lies on the bed that was meant for two.

* * *

A widespread of fragrant dishes have been laid out on the dining table. Old Mistress is serving Qianyun her favourite dish of meat wrapped in lotus leaves. A sour taste fills my mouth at the affectionate sight as I pick at the rice in my bowl. To my left, Taichen is enjoying her well-loved spinach and bean curd. The meal is delicious as usual, and yet, I find it hard to swallow. No one in this house has ever asked me what I like.

“You must be lonely these days,” the Old Mistress says apologetically as she takes Taichen’s hand into her own. “Qianxun is often away at Beijing for work. The two children don’t get to see him much. I hope you don’t blame him. As a man of the house, there are business matters he must attend to.”

Taichen shakes her head gently as she scoops some steamed fish and slides it onto the elder’s plate. I sneer in disgust. She does it so naturally like an expert at gaining favour. A sly fox is what she is. “Not at all, I understand. I just hope to relieve some of his burdens by caring for the family.”

Their pretentious exchange almost has me gagging on the food. Yun has a temper when provoked, but the one I am truly unable to stand is the Second Mistress. She has sickeningly sweet replies at hand to everything the Old Mistress has to say. I sometimes wonder if she hides books beneath her bed where she memorises these cheesy lines by heart.

Old Mistress smiles fondly at Taichen before she turns her attention to Yun. “You’re not getting any younger, my daughter. You’re already twenty this year. It’s about time you start searching for a suitable partner and marry off.”

All of us are taken aback. But Yun suffers from the greatest shock, her chopsticks hovering mid-air as she takes in the dizzying words. “Mother, surely you don’t mean that… I’m still young. Grant me a few more years at the very least.”

“_You_, _young_?” I bark out a hysterical laugh as I set my bowl down with a thud. “Do not forget that I tied the knot at eighteen to fulfil my family’s wishes. Could it be… that Sister Yun is simply not as filial?”

I cover my mouth swiftly to feign surprise and Yun’s face goes red with shame. She holds her chopsticks in a death grip, her stare of pure hatred. As usual, the nosy Taichen decides to pipe in. “It is no good jumping to conclusions. Yun is just taken aback by the suggestion. Give her some time and she’ll come to her senses-”

“Nonsense! Si is right,” the Old Mistress cuts her off sternly. My eyes grow wide with unparalleled delight. To say that I am thrilled at this moment would be an understatement. “I must have spoilt her too much. Tomorrow, I will ask around town for any eligible young man. This decision is final.”

I have to bite my lips hard to refrain from smiling as I internalise those words. Soon, Yun will be shipped off to another household. And when that time arrives, I shall see who Taichen can gang up on me with.

The dining table falls silent as they lose their appetites. But for some magical reason, the dishes before me appear much more appetising than before. I shove food into my mouth heartily as I rejoice in the gloomy atmosphere.

* * *

“There’s a letter for you… Yaner left it by the drawers,” the broken figure wheezes violently when I return from lunch. At the bedside table, Xiaowei is busy clearing the dishes from feeding him. My jolly mood from before vanishes at those words. Xiaowei must have sensed the change as she gingerly scampers out without being told to do so.

“It’s been years now. Why are they so persistent?” I lament to no one in particular, voice dripping with exasperation. I walk listlessly towards the bed and settle by my usual spot at the edge. “I have never once relented and replied. And I don’t intend on giving in.”

“The fact that they keep trying shows that they still care for you.” Kun pauses for a moment to catch his breath. “We both know that they weren’t given a choice. The sooner you forgive them, the sooner you can let go.”

Truth to be told, I want to snap and yell at him. What does he know? This matter has got nothing to do with him. But deep down inside, I know that Kun is right. He always is. Through the smooth, velvet sheets, Kun pats my knee reassuringly, his touch the only anchor keeping me sane.

My family had resorted to selling the business when the hospital fees piled up. But alas, it was all in vain. Father succumbed to his coma just days after. Tears spring to my eyes as I recall those dark days. Being illiterate, there were only so many odd jobs that mother and I could find. Yangyang had to give up on things too- he quit school and found employment as a clerk at a small, printing company. But having three mouths to feed is always harder than two, and the cost of father’s funeral couldn’t wait.

All these reasons I know and understand. Nevertheless, they don’t keep me from feeling hurt all the same. My heart and mind are locked in a constant state of conflict. I hate feeling inferior next to the elite Qians who have never once tasted hardship. But Kun is staring at me with those bright eyes. There is a gentle smile on his grey lips, as though he sees a better version of myself than I actually am.

“Okay,” I finally say. “I’ll pay them a visit next week.”


End file.
